


Four Stages of Courtship

by LadyTP



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Courtship, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Political Marriage, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:28:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTP/pseuds/LadyTP
Summary: Stannis Baratheon had never faced an enemy like this, had never been presented with an ultimatum likethis. All the rumours of the dragons descending on Westeros had not prepared him for THIS.





	Four Stages of Courtship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [politicalmamaduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/gifts).



> Sooo... Stannis and Daenerys??? _'What is going on???'_ , I hear you ask... 
> 
> Well, this is my contribution to the [Alternate Songs Round 1 (2017)](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/AlternateSongs2017/assignments/1885797), to a prompt by [politicalmamaduck](http://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/pseuds/politicalmamaduck), who wanted to see her beloved Stannis/Daenerys together in a fic... 
> 
> As I have a hard time imagining them meeting and falling in passionate love, and I haven't tried my hand in a crackfic as yet, this plot seemed to me much more plausible - but I let you, dear readers, be the judge of it! :-)

## PROPOSAL 

Stannis Baratheon shook his head and closed his eyes wearily, hearing the words but not truly registering their meaning. It had been the same that day, long ago, when Robert had told him that he was to forfeit Storm’s End to Renly while being forced to take that sevenforsaken Dragonstone as his own seat. He hadn’t believed him at first, thinking it to be only a distasteful jape at his expense, but when had Robert ever japed about things he wanted to go his way?

Still, surely he had heard her wrong.

_Is she mocking me?_

Stannis had accepted that this was a situation with no escape. He had fought and lost and now all there was to do was to die with honour. Stoic - he could be stoic. His whole life had prepared him for this moment; to die under a sword of an enemy. He only wondered if it would be a sword, or something more brutal.

He scanned around the room and saw the dark-skinned soldiers in spiked caps carrying long spears lining the wall. Would he be subjected to a thrust of a spear instead? Or maybe a noose around his neck? Was he to become fodder for dragons, perhaps?

“I realise my proposal may be surprising to you, but let me assure you it is an honest one.” Her purple eyes fixed on him and Stannis, the man who didn’t shy away from beast nor man, flinched. There was a rare aura of utter self-confidence and certainty radiating from her, the slip of a girl.

He refused to acknowledge her a _queen_ even in his mind. _Khaleesi_ , perhaps, a queen of foreign people of the sunburned country far away – but not _the_ _Queen_. Never that. 

He shifted on his seat, finding the cushions laid on the sofa too soft, too stifling. The soldiers reacted to it, two of them raising their weapons. Stannis froze, but a subtle nod from her saw them laying down their weapons. No words had been spoken, but a threat conveyed had been clear.

_A proposal. She had a proposal._

The words came back to him now and he didn’t know whether to curse or laugh. The jape, the mocking, what was the purpose of it?

“As one ruler to another, all I ask is some dignity. Don’t display my body in mockery. Send my bones to Storm’s End.” Stannis gritted his teeth. _If it please you,_ would have been an appropriate addition to his request, considering the situation, but he couldn't force the words out of his mouth.

“Your body? It doesn’t have to come to that. I am serious; this is a treaty everyone understands. It would be binding, it would be irrevocable, it would mean an alliance between our people. It is not going to be easy, I grant you that, but it can be made to work.”

He tried to recall what she had said, exactly. His head was heavy after a long night’s ride and his mind blurry from the lack of sleep.

“Why?” Stannis stared at her and to her credit, the scowl that had sent many powerful lords scurrying didn’t faze her.

“I want what is mine by right, but I loathe to see my people suffering because of it. You know as well as I that should we meet on the field, I shall prevail. Yet it would mean the death of hundreds and thousands, widows and orphans and their suffering. And I want none of that.”

Stannis glanced at the soldiers, then the girl, and the door, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He was the rightful king of Westeros, he could not show uncertainty.

Yet this was the first time ever he had received a proposal for marriage and if he was honest with himself, he didn’t know what to do with it.

 

## COURTING 

All this had happened just as things had started to go well for Stannis Baratheon.

Just as he had started to believe he would finally get what was his. His duty, his right, his burden – Seven Kingdoms united and rebuilt. His mind had run restlessly with all the planning that needed to be done – he knew it to be too early but couldn’t help himself – there was so much to do to repair the damage, to re-establish the trade, to appoint right people to right positions.

Uniting the Northerners and wildlings behind Jon Snow and ensuring a steady supply of dragonglass from Dragonstone had turned the ebb of war on the Wall in favour of humans, allowing him to turn his attention back to the realm. On his way to the Crownlands his ranks had swollen in each territory they had travelled through with lords and powerful houses who had finally realised that without the ruthless brilliance of Tywin Lannister the cause of false King Tommen and Dowager Queen Cersei was lost.

But then the news from the coast had started to trickle in. Mutterings about invading ships, battles lost, castles surrendered, and the strangest talk of all about dragons spotted in the sky. Trickles became little streams and then floods of news, and eventually, Stannis had to acknowledge that his woes were far from over.

The dragons had arrived.

\----------

Stannis had done as he always did; he had squared his shoulders and gotten to work.

He had called upon the lords to demand the troops promised to him only a short time ago, and he and his generals had spent day after day drawing battle plans. He made sure to find out all he could about this new foe and was told an incredible tale of adversity and victories – and dragons. That a mere girl had achieved all that gave Stannis some pause, as did the fact that she was a Targaryen.

Sometimes he had lain awake at night and wondered whether he was doing the right thing by pursuing his own claim above the of one to whom his own house had once sworn loyalty. Yet what was he to do? Give up, submit to the girl who had not as much as stepped his foot on Westeros soil before this, and who could not be expected to understand the threat from beyond the Wall?

And so he had continued his plans with grim determination…

…until the evening when he had been taken unawares in his own tent. Silent soldiers acting as one had appeared out of nowhere and as soon disappeared, having bundled him into a tight package with his head covered with a hempen sack. They had ridden through the night before finally stopping in the small village.

After dismounting they had walked across a large field where the remains of a recent battle still showed. The earth had been scorched, no grass nor trees standing up bar a few derelict blackened stumps poking out of the bare ground. Men and women with olive skin were gathering dead into large piles, the bodies grotesquely charred into black, twisted forms that no ordinary fire could surely create. For a moment Stannis closed his eyes and remembered the battle of the Blackwater Bay and the horrible green fire that had burned, burned, burned… but even dead of that night had not been obliterated quite to this degree.

And then he had been pushed into the room where Daenerys Targaryen, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons had received him.

\----------

“If you accept this offer, you will not be the King, but you will be my consort and you will have those duties as you wish to choose. We shall reside in the Red Keep and you and I will share our life as a husband and wife should. ” As she spoke there was just the slightest tremor in her last words that made Stannis look at her sharper. A sign of nervousness? If it was, it was the first time she had been anything but confident, calm and controlled.

Watching her Stannis registered how young and strikigly looking she truly was, in his cool analytical way. How fine her features, how slender her frame, how purple her eyes and how silver her hair, all combined giving her an ethereal and otherworldly look. Stannis remembered Prince Rhaegar and the almost too feminine beauty of his – she was his sister for true.

Yet it didn’t make a difference to him, womenly wiles never carrying much attraction to him. He had not spent time in female company since the death of Queen Selyse from chills and his banishment of Lady Melissandre some moons ago, having lost his faith in her prophecies. It didn’t affect him though - Stannis carried his solitude as he did his other burdens and accepted them all equally.

Monster or maiden, it didn’t matter in the face of her offer.

_This is madness. Enemies do not do such offers – where is the trap?_

Stannis looked around the room once more. His ire was rising. What kind of a fool did she think he was?

“What you suggest is as ridiculous notion as I have ever heard. If what I saw outside is your doing, you don’t need anyone to take over this land.”

She stood up and walked to the window, staring out of it. Her clothes were silky and flowed as she moved, hugging her form. Stannis looked away.

“I am fully aware of it;  I _could_ take Westeros with blood and fire, and rule over charred kingdoms. But if you and I shall join our forces we could unite them without bloodshed. I know of you, I have made it my matter to know. You are harsh but just, they say. You don’t want the crown for your own sake but because it is your duty. You want Westeros prosperous and peaceful.” She turned and addressed him once more.

“Surely you can see the advantage of this arrangement? Those goals are mine as well as yours, and together we would achieve them better than either of us could alone.”

A long silence ensued. Stannis rubbed his wrists absentmindedly feeling the swelling of bruises of the ropes. He hadn’t paid attention to such small inconveniences before, thinking his bodily discomforts being soon over, but now he found himself aching from the uncomfortable riding position he had been forced to adopt due to binds in his hands and legs. He could take it, of course. His body did what he asked it to do and had served him well so far. And now, just maybe, it could continue to do so even further. His death might not be inevitable after all.

_But at what cost?_

Stannis decided it was time to test the limits of the situation.

“I have to think this over as I am sure you understand,” he said, rising higher in his seat to signal that time for talk was over, ignoring the raised spears of the warriors. “I have heard what you wanted to say and now it is time I went back to my camp.”

She took his words in good grace. “Naturally. Unfortunately I didn’t see any other way to get to talk to you directly, without distractions. Now that you have heard me, you are free to go; my men will escort you back. Two of them will stay with you so you can send your answer back to me with them. You have three days.” She gestured with her hand and two of the soldiers moved to Stannis’ side and escorted him to the door. As they neared it, Daenerys Targaryen fell to walk beside him.

“One more thing before you go; I’d like you to meet my children.”

\----------

The small group took a turn further into the woods that had been left untouched and walked until they arrived in a large clearing. And there…

Stannis had never seen anything quite as impressing and as frightening, and so mesmerising. The statues and images of dragons in the ramparts and halls of Dragonstone had never conveyed the reality of the creatures. They – they were _beautiful_.

The biggest was black with red horns, the other two a mixture of cream and gold, green and bronze. They were all huge – their heads larger than a fully grown aurochs and their wingspan Stannis didn’t even dare to guess.

As they arrived the dragons turned their heads towards their mother, who talked to them in a language Stannis recognised as old Valyrian, but not enough to know the words. Her tone was clear, nonetheless, the tone of countless women throughout the times talking to their children; soft, cooing, endearing. The black dragon lowered his head and pushed its scaly nose gently against the girl.

Daenerys said something to one their escorts who looked around the ground for a moment before picking up a thick tree branch and handing it to her. While Stannis watched, she threw it away from her as hard as she could, shouting; “DRACARYS!”

The flames hotter and fiercer Stannis had ever seen engulfed the branch, heat of it so intense that even a good distance away Stannis felt it on his face.

_Gods!_

Daenerys spoke to the beasts some more, rubbed the horny scales of the green one and patted the nose of the creamy beast before coming to face the two men.

“My children obey me in everything, as you can see.”

He didn’t have to guess to know her meaning. This show had been meant for him and him alone, and it had done what it had been intended to.

_If I don’t accept her offer the whole Westeros will become like that log – cinder and ashes._

He nodded coldly, determined to not her see how disturbed he was by the sight he had just witnessed. They left the clearing behind but in his mind’s eye Stannis saw the dragons and the fire as if they were standing in front of him still.

He shivered.

Shortly before they mounted the fresh horses brought up to them Daenerys Targaryen approached him once again. She tapped him lightly on the arm and smiled.

“Please accept my apologies for this rough wooing. I gather this is rather forward for women in Westeros – but then, I am not any woman.” She turned and walked away.

Stannis could only stare at her retreating back.

## WEDDING 

All eyes were on her as soon as she entered the Great Sept of Baelor, but Daenerys was used to it and shed the weight of them off her easily. She had been gawked at for such a long time, always different from the others; an unwelcome exile, an unexpected bride, a hated invader, a worshipped mother of slaves, always someone alien. And even though this was the land of her forefathers, she did not feel at home - yet. Maybe she never would. Maybe there was no house with a red door for her anywhere in this big wide world.

The years when she had longed to be back in Westeros thinking she would find satisfaction and the feeling of belonging when she finally sat on the Iron Throne – it had not happened.

 _Maybe it will never happen. Maybe_ he _will help it to happen._

Now the only thing she was focussed on was the man who was waiting for her in front of the seven pointed star.

By now she was getting used to the sight of him and yet just moments before she was to bind herself to him for the rest of her life, she stopped and looked at Stannis Baratheon of Storm’s End as if seeing him for the first time.

Tall, strongly built, dark, brooding. Close-cropped beard and a shaven head, sharp eyes that missed nothing and a mouth that might have been sensual if it was not permanently turned into a slight scowl. He stood straight, alert, hand curved to touch the sword on his hip. He was older than most men in her retinue, but not decrepit by any means.

He was actually rather handsome man, Daenerys had to admit - too bad that he was so serious, being strongly averse to anything that had as much as a whiff of frivolity attached to it.

She squared her shoulders and started her slow walk towards her betrothed. Stannis thought like she did, she knew. The mere fact that he had agreed to this marriage was a sign of it. It must have taken a hard toll on a man of his nature to swallow his pride and acquiesce to it, to the loss of his own ambitions, to be seen as being defeated by a woman. And yet he had done it, and after giving his answer had not looked back but had immediately started planning of how they should organise the realm under the new circumstances.

Of that, Daenerys was grateful, impressed even. If they had nothing else in common, they had this.

Marriages had started off on worse odds.

\----------

By the time the wedding feast was halfway through, the spirits of all had lifted and the hall was filled wth smiles and japes. Musicians plucked their instruments, hardly heard over the din of the crowd, but Daenerys heard them and drummed her fingers against the table top at the tune. The notes were different to those across the sea, where the rhythms were more exaggerated in every aspect; slow was slower, fast was faster – but she didn’t mind. The harp had been her brother's instrument, she had been told, and her eyes lingered at the youth who was playing it now. Had Rhaegar played in this very same hall, plucked the same chords?

She sighed and turned to her new husband.

“This is much different to my first wedding,” she said sipping sweet golden wine from a beautifully carved goblet. “A dozen men died during the festivities, making it an exceptional wedding even by Dothraki standards.”

Stannis looked at her askance. “How barbarous. In my wedding, the biggest scandal was my brother bedding my wife's cousin in our wedding bed. It was bad enough.”

Daenerys found it amusing but politely tried to hide it. She had learned that her husband had little or less sense of humour – but she actually didn’t mind it.

“Shall we drink a toast to an uneventful wedding then, my lord?” Her goblet raised she waited for Stannis to raise his, but when he did, he lowered hers.

“This will not do – surely there is something better than lemon water for you to drink?” Daenerys gestured for the passing servant to bring wine, and despite Stannis’s protestations that lemon water was all he needed, she didn’t stop until he had a goblet full of sweet summer wine in his hand.

Whether it was an early test to see how far she could make her new lord go at her behest did not bear thinking. Power dynamics between them were yet to be sorted, their situation being too fragile to define. She was the Queen and the sole ruler, she was the one with three dragons, an army of Unsullied, Dothraki warriors and sellsword companies at her command, she was the one with the true claim to the throne. He was only the usurper’s younger brother and usurper as well. Daenerys had no intentions to succumb to a role of an obedient wife, no matter if that was what the traditions expected of her.

Yet Stannis was a proud man, but also practical in a way she had not noticed many other puffed-up lords of Westeros be. Would they someday come to a conflict over who wore the breeches in their marriage? Only time would tell.

They drank, lowered their cups, watched the passing procession of jolly guests, and soon Daenerys noticed Stannis lifting his cup again. He sipped cautiously, his eyebrows shooting up at the taste and then his scowl gradually easing to contentment as the cup emptied.

_So he has to be commanded to enjoy things._

Daenerys found the concept interesting, wondering how that might apply to what was ahead. She had no expectations of their wedding night, only acceptance that consummation was needed to make the marriage official. If anything, she thought Stannis to be a distant and cold lover. Well, she had not entered this union for carnal delights and fully expected that part of their marriage to be the least of her worries. Yet if Stannis denied himself simple pleasures of tasty drink, would he do the same for pleasures of the flesh?

She observed Stannis’s strong hands holding the cup, surprisingly slender fingers and dark hair at the back of his hands, spreading higher to his wrists and under his sleeves. She wondered if he was as hairy all over, and then blushed at finding herself thinking of such things. It had been a long time…

\----------

Daenerys swayed on her feet while tugging at the ribbons tying her hair, wondering if having drunk a bit too much of that sweet wine had wise or foolish. If the bedding was to be as cold as she fully anticipated, it might be better to be somewhat lightheaded – maybe her pride would not be so stung. Then again… but surely a wedding night was not a time for talks requiring a clear head?

The steps from the corridor approached the door, it opened and Stannis walked in. He looked flushed and annoyed, having rejected the shouts calling for a proper bedding ceremony and yet being swarmed by a group of women scooping him from his seat towards the bridal chamber. Daenerys had been surrounded by lords and knights doing the same, to which she had acquiesced in good cheer. No improper groping or undressing took place, however – self-preservation and a healthy respect for the Dragon Queen stayed even the most curious hands.

It all had been a bit silly but she didn’t mind. Stannis, on other hand, was unlikely to have taken it well and Daenerys observed him sharply as he closed and bolted the door carefully.

_No more intrusions. It is just me and him now._

The thought sobered her somewhat and she considered what to do next. Should she expect him to take the initiative? Should she stand and wait?

 _Dragon does not wait for a stag_ , she decided, and seeing how inviting the bed was - soft linen and fluffy pillows, with tiny flowers strewn on top  - she made up her mind. She was going to bed and her lordly husband could suit himself as he wished.

Undressing was not easy considering her wedding dress was full of hidden clasps, decorative belts, false sleeves and flowing silks, but she had dismissed her maids and made do as best as she could on her own. Removing her stockings seemed like an easy start so she did that, rolled them down her calves one by one, threw them on the floor – no airs or graces, no coquettish behaviour. Halfway through she, however, sensed more than saw that Stannis had stopped and stared at her, still leaning on the door.

Daenerys looked up and something in his eyes made the hair on her arms to rise, and a warm tingle spread from her belly.

_No, this is not how it is supposed to go._

She turned away and struggled with the fastenings on her back – and didn’t hear Stannis approaching and only became aware of him by his hand touching her shoulder. Not gently, not like a lover’s touch, but not harshly either.

“Maybe I can be of assistance, my lady.”

His voice betrayed nothing but practical consideration of the task at hand, but he was surprisingly patient, untangling knots and pulling ribbons through eyelets like he was born to it. Daenerys wondered if this was just another duty for him too, something else to be crossed off the list.

Soon she was clad only in her shift, the many layers of cloth having been removed one by one and fallen on the floor. The bed linen was cool and crisp when she slipped under it, not looking back before she had taken a comfortable position and arranged her pillow under her head.

Then she looked.

Rarely had she seen Stannis Baratheon so sullen, his shoulders slumped and his stance uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to another. In a small way it irritated Daenerys but also gave her a small degree of gleeful satisfaction.

He had always been controlled and calm in their meetings, ever since the first one where he had been dragged by force. Then he had seemed dazed and oddly unresponsive, not in a craven way, but in a way a man might if he had nothing to lose.

Daenerys had given a lot of thought to guide her actions that day, not liking any of the options that had presented themselves to her. Let the realm burn and rebuild it, or accept the usurper's vile brother to her bed? She had protested against it, but as the only person standing in her way had been herself, the rational part of her mind, eventually she had had to give up and yield to it.

She liked to think she had learned something in her life.

Stannis was still leaning against the door, a distant expression on his face. He was a stranger still – an ally in her new endeavour, but a stranger still. Daenerys pulled the sheet higher.

While Daenerys looked on, Stannis undressed. Methodically, orderly; boots, coat, vest, tunic, one item of clothing at the time, those being folded and stacked on top of the trunk at the end of the bed. Sometimes he furrowed his brow as an item of clothing resisted his attempt to flatten it neatly, shaking it impatiently open again and starting over. Hardly the behaviour of a man eager to consummate his marriage.

And yes. He _was_ hairy. Lean, wiry, muscular in the sort of way as hunting dogs are, designed to last the distance rather than display their strength in a fight. Despite his initial unease, once he was fully naked Stannis seemed to be unexpectedly comfortable in his skin, not shying away or trying to cover himself as he moved around the room blowing the candles on the side table off, leaving only the iron-wrought candelabra next to the bed.

“Would you move aside to make room, my lady?” he said, appearing at the other side of the bed and Daenerys found herself inching sideways and lifting the corner of the quilt to let her lord and husband in.

\----------

It had been hasty, efficient and perfunctory, just as Daenerys had expected. After lying side by side for a moment Stannis had sighed, turned to his side and placed his hand on her breast – and Daenerys had braced herself for an uncomfortable experience, much akin to her visits to the Great Sept of Baelor where she had to stand unmoving in front of the worshippers clad in her heaviest and most jewelled robes to show that she carried on with the tradition of the Faith. Tiresome, unpleasant, hot – but it had to be done.

Morning light dabbled through the painted window colouring the room in the shades of green, red, yellow. Daenerys smiled into the folds of the sheet when she thought of the comparison that had flashed through her mind. A steady breathing by her side told her that Stannis was still asleep and she cast a glance at his direction from under her lashes.

He looked younger when he slept, more vulnerable, mouth slightly ajar and furrows on his forehead smoothed. The stubble on his chin was more prominent now and Daenerys wondered how often he shaved it – must be often to keep it cleanly shaven at most times. Slowly she ran her finger alongside his jaw, careful not to touch, as she was not in a hurry to wake him up and start the new day. There was something magical in the moments between sleep and wakefulness, and between wakefulness and acceptance of the day's duties ahead, and she wanted to savour it a moment longer.

That had been the first time.

She hadn’t yet been fully prepared when he had entered her, but it hadn’t been painful and she had endured it stoically. A few jerking movements,  grimace, a muffled exclamation and he was done. Had she not been worried that he might see it, Daenerys would have rolled her eyes.

After, he had rolled to his side and thanked her formally, and something in the whole situation had seemed so ridiculous to her that Daenerys had not been able to help herself and had burst out laughing. At first Stannis had been incredulous, glaring daggers at her and that had only made her laugh harder – and then he had _really_ surprised her.

Stannis Baratheon had smiled.

Or maybe it was overly generous to call it a smile, but there had been a distinctive upward tug at the corner of his mouth and at that the whole atmosphere in the room had changed. Instead of dark and foreboding it had turned to lighter, more relaxed, as if the air itself had suddenly become easier to breathe. The did not speak of it, but the tension on Stannis’s shoulders had eased and he had burrowed deeper into the bed, stretching his long limbs and for the first time since she had first met him, he had looked _at ease._

The second time had come much later, after they had dozed off and the candles had burned out. Daenerys had woken up restless, maybe the remains of the wine in her head making her lightheaded, maybe the earlier act having woken something that had laid dormant in her. Whatever it was, for reasons she could not explain she had inched her hand under the quilt to touch Stannis’s hip and found it warm and firm, and from there it had been only a short distance to his thigh, and then he had shifted and his large hand had landed on top of hers but instead of pushing it away it had only held it there – until she wriggled her fingers free and he pushed his hips up and she found him already hard and wanting.

There had been nothing hasty, efficient or perfunctory in their second time. Clumsy, yes, inexpert, not surprisingly, even awkward at times, but with Stannis seemingly having concluded his duty being done, he turned out to be surprisingly patient, acquiescing to Daenerys lead. She, of course, had no understanding if the things she wanted to do in bed were normal or accepted in the Seven Kingdoms – her education about the land she was to rule had not gotten quite to _that_ level of detail – but she didn’t care. And the hard cold man she had married had let her have her way; ride him when she wanted, guide his hands where she wanted them - and all that time he had watched her.

Daenerys smiled again. It had not been perfect, it had not been exactly a loving union – but it had been honest and it had been real.

Marriages had started off on worse odds.

 

## MARRIAGE

_My wife._

The thought was still new to Stannis, even after all the time that had passed from the day of their wedding vows. Maybe it was because the connotations the word carried were so different to what they had been before.

_My lady wife._

He watched Daenerys as she sat on the throne passing judgment, addressing the petitioners to the court. There had been a time when Stannis had been apprehensive about it, thinking that a foreigner could surely not know the intricacies of the Seven Kingdoms and its squabbling nobles.

And yet how wrong he had been. She had proven herself meticulous in her lessons about the land she was ruling and determined in her attempts to rule wisely.

Stannis cocked his head and studied her. From the restless tapping of her toe against the carpeted floor he knew that she was agitated. Undoubtedly some frivolous argument or another between the merchants of King’s Landing and those of Dorne – he didn’t really want to find out.

_She can handle it._

\----------

“What _is_ wrong with these Dornish?!” Daenerys sighed when they were finally alone in their solar. “I thought nobles of Meereen were haughty and entitled but this is ridiculous!” She dropped her crown carelessly on the bed, where it rolled around until stopping just before falling on the ground. Stannis winced. He had been known once to crawl under the bed to retrieve it – a moment of which he was not proud. He had only done it because she had been in a hurry, and calling for servants when he was still buck naked in bed had seemed like greater of two evils.

It was still a novelty to him; not having to rush out the first thing in the morning if he didn’t feel like it. He appreciated it, but it irritated him as well. It didn't feel right. He was getting old. Soft. Spoiled.

“Tell me about haughty Meereenese.” Stannis handed her a goblet filled with sweet summer wine. He still drank mostly lemon water, but every now and then she gave him a drink and he didn’t refuse.

Daenerys yawned. “Not tonight. For now, I don’t want to think of anything to do with the trade, customs, shipping rights or such. All I want is to be on my own and think of nothing.”

Stannis sipped his water, in an absolute assuredness that when she said she wanted to be on her own, she included him in it. Such a strange scenario, and so unexpected.

He had been a loner most of his life, having learned at young age that investing his happiness onto others was wrought with danger and disappointment. With Selyse he had never felt…close.

Daenerys moved behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders. That, too, had been most unexpected or Stannis; to be touched so often. Sometimes passingly and absentmindedly, sometimes deliberately and with an intent. She had soon learned that he didn’t want that in public and she respected it – but when they were alone, she had taken small liberties one after another and Stannis had given in. _Why_ she should want that, remained a mystery to him but by now he had stopped wondering.

He squeezed her hand and turned to look at her; the slip of a girl – the woman.

_His queen._

_The Queen._

_\----- THE END -----_


End file.
